Given the nature of my work, I was intrigued right off the bat that Kate Hudson's character in The Skeleton Key is a hospice care provider. That it happens to coincide with my profession was one thing, that it's a decidedly unglamorous and un-Hollywood profession to wrap around Goldie Hawn's daughter was enough to make me think "OK, I'm in. Where's this going?"
To her credit Ms. Hudson is plays against her It-Girl-Tabloid-I-Married-A-Rocker image. And she's up against some serious acting chops in Gena Rowlands as Violet Devereux, the matriarch of a crumbling and creepy bayou plantation home and John Hurt, turning in a fantastic wordless performance, as her dying husband Ben Devereux.
The movie riffs on the nature and power of belief that can either support a person's sense of purpose or ultimately be their unraveling. As Caroline, Kate's character, begins her stay in Mrs. Devereux' mansion as Mr. Devereux' hospice provider, she begins in the grandest Nancy Drew tradition to "snoop around" and finds evidence of hoodoo and black magic in the far reaches of the attic. She soon suspects that Ben Devereux is suffering not from the result of a stroke but perhaps from some form of black magic. While she is clear with herself that she does not believe in such stuff, she is rightfully aware of the effect such sorcery can have on someone who does believe.
Stylistically, The Skeleton Key harks back to the golden age of Betty Davis' gothic horror films and makes splendid use of Lousiana's lush-and-beautiful-turns-to-stormy-and-isolating climate. The tight ensemble cast keeps this from looking like a mere star vehicle of Ms. Hudson.
The movie follows its own internal logic and wraps up with a nifty ending that, although quite disturbing in its implications, makes perfect sense. Although perhaps not as harrowing as the bloodless climax of George Sluizer's sinister 1988 masterpiece "Spoorloos" (The Vanishing), it nonetheless recalls that moment of dread shortly before the credits begin to roll.
Directed by Iain Softley, I give The Skeleton Key 4 out of 5 shrunken heads and a High John the Conqueror root for protection
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
THE DEVIL'S REJECTS (2005)
The Devil's Rejects is director Rob Zombie's critically acclaimed follow-up to his House of 1ooo Corpses. "House" was more or less his homage to horror films of the 70s, most notably Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Over the years, TCM (not Turner Classic Movies) has become the watermark of horror films. It is either immitated, reprised, remade, or referred to by directors who wish to establish themselves as serious genre contenders.
Not that TCM did its director Tobe Hooper any good. After his success with "Poltergeist" in the early 80s, his career has pretty much hit the skids. I was among the few stupefied viewers who attempted to watch "Crocodile" on Sci-Fi in disbelief that Mr. Hooper actually had helmed the project. As I recall there was also a dreadful Brad Douriff vehicle entitled "Spontaneous Combustion" which coincidentally was about spontaneous combustion. Clever title, that. In my humble opinion, Tobe Hooper is no more.
"House" was a blatant TCM rip-off which featured a quartet of young dimwits who stumble upon the murderous Firefly family and are dispatched one by one. For some reason left unexplained, while the goofy and comical murderers are above ground, there exists also some strange beings underground who perform all sorts of torture style operations on victims the Fireflies don't finish off themselves. I don't know, maybe I was just too tired to try to figure it out, but the underground weirdos seemed to belong to a different movie entirely.
The Devil's Rejects, for those of us who had been waiting with bated breath for the continuation of the family Firefly's story, is the continuation of the family Firefly's story. They've been found out, they're surrounded by police, they make their escape and are for the remainder of the film pursued by a rather crazed William Forsythe, who is hellbent on bringing them to justice for the murder of his brother in the first film. While Forsythe's character tracks the Fireflies, the Firefly clan kidnap people who they have crossed paths with and torture, humiliate and kill them. Fun viewing indeed.
What ultimately makes this film a cut above the usual genre fare is Zombie's willingness to turn the tables on the Firefly family as Forsythe, descending in vengeance-seeking madness, becomes their stalker, torturer and executioner. In a genre that often barely pays lip service to anything resembling character development, this change is practically revolutionary. Unfortunately, and this may be a clear indication that after all these years I'm moving further and further away from an appreciation of the genre, none of this ultimately matters. It's as if the entire message of the film is that good people die horrible deaths and bad people torture and kill people before dying horrible deaths themselves.
If the true purpose of horror is to frighten and terrify the viewer then this movie fails. Ever since the strange bedfellows of comedy and horror/gore got together, the result has been films that can perhaps shock or disturb but rarely simply terrify. And the critics who seem to enjoy them the most are the one's for whom the comic elements during grand-guinol style violence makes the film work.
Me? I don't get it. Once the credits began to roll my reaction was "pffft...whatever. Next." I give The Devil's Rejects the entire output of the Three Stooges to pour over and perhaps learn from.
BTW, the underground beings from House of 1000 Corpses were completely dropped. Perhaps their story will be continued in Mr. Zombie's next highly anticipated feature.
Not that TCM did its director Tobe Hooper any good. After his success with "Poltergeist" in the early 80s, his career has pretty much hit the skids. I was among the few stupefied viewers who attempted to watch "Crocodile" on Sci-Fi in disbelief that Mr. Hooper actually had helmed the project. As I recall there was also a dreadful Brad Douriff vehicle entitled "Spontaneous Combustion" which coincidentally was about spontaneous combustion. Clever title, that. In my humble opinion, Tobe Hooper is no more.
"House" was a blatant TCM rip-off which featured a quartet of young dimwits who stumble upon the murderous Firefly family and are dispatched one by one. For some reason left unexplained, while the goofy and comical murderers are above ground, there exists also some strange beings underground who perform all sorts of torture style operations on victims the Fireflies don't finish off themselves. I don't know, maybe I was just too tired to try to figure it out, but the underground weirdos seemed to belong to a different movie entirely.
The Devil's Rejects, for those of us who had been waiting with bated breath for the continuation of the family Firefly's story, is the continuation of the family Firefly's story. They've been found out, they're surrounded by police, they make their escape and are for the remainder of the film pursued by a rather crazed William Forsythe, who is hellbent on bringing them to justice for the murder of his brother in the first film. While Forsythe's character tracks the Fireflies, the Firefly clan kidnap people who they have crossed paths with and torture, humiliate and kill them. Fun viewing indeed.
What ultimately makes this film a cut above the usual genre fare is Zombie's willingness to turn the tables on the Firefly family as Forsythe, descending in vengeance-seeking madness, becomes their stalker, torturer and executioner. In a genre that often barely pays lip service to anything resembling character development, this change is practically revolutionary. Unfortunately, and this may be a clear indication that after all these years I'm moving further and further away from an appreciation of the genre, none of this ultimately matters. It's as if the entire message of the film is that good people die horrible deaths and bad people torture and kill people before dying horrible deaths themselves.
If the true purpose of horror is to frighten and terrify the viewer then this movie fails. Ever since the strange bedfellows of comedy and horror/gore got together, the result has been films that can perhaps shock or disturb but rarely simply terrify. And the critics who seem to enjoy them the most are the one's for whom the comic elements during grand-guinol style violence makes the film work.
Me? I don't get it. Once the credits began to roll my reaction was "pffft...whatever. Next." I give The Devil's Rejects the entire output of the Three Stooges to pour over and perhaps learn from.
BTW, the underground beings from House of 1000 Corpses were completely dropped. Perhaps their story will be continued in Mr. Zombie's next highly anticipated feature.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
GODZILLA VS. GIGAN (1972)
Gigan is an awesome kaiju from outer space. Along with the ubiquitous King Ghidorah, each is sent hermetically sealed in red and blue space crystals to assist a race of alien space-cockroaches in defeating Earth. The space-cockroaches have reel-to-reel tapes containing some of Professor Emeritus Tim Sullivan's noodlings on the old Putney 2000.
The signals from the tape instruct Gigan and King Ghidorah. Apparently Godzilla and Anguirus are supposed to be effected by the sounds as well. But they are not because they belong to earth. In this film, Godzilla and Anguirus talk to each other telepathically in dubbed English, which caused outrage among die hard fans of kaiju and the supposed rules that govern their Toho universe.
There's a lot of rumbling among the four titans as well as a group of hippies (dude!) who lend their peace and love sensibilities to Godzilla and Anguirus. Some people believed initially that this film actually featured Jerry Garcia's debut as an actor but close scrutiny discloses a Japanese Jerry look-alike. I seem to recall the Jerry Garcia character eating lots of bananas in the movie. Many fans believed this to be a hidden message about the psychedelic potential of smoking banana peels, much as Donovan's hit "Mellow Yellow" was a few years prior.
Aside from all that, Gigan is absolutely the coolest kaiju to come down the pike with his pointed claws, pointed mandibles and, best of all, a rotating buzzsaw protruding from his belly. You can't find anything like that in Texas chainsaw Massacre! By the film's end, our monster heroes have sent our monster villains packing with an invitation never to set foot on our cool blue orb again. At least until the next Toho production is cranked out.
Directed by Jun Fukuda, a sorry successor to the venerable Ishiro Honda, I give this less-than-classic kaiju-fest a sample pack of roach motels.
The signals from the tape instruct Gigan and King Ghidorah. Apparently Godzilla and Anguirus are supposed to be effected by the sounds as well. But they are not because they belong to earth. In this film, Godzilla and Anguirus talk to each other telepathically in dubbed English, which caused outrage among die hard fans of kaiju and the supposed rules that govern their Toho universe.
There's a lot of rumbling among the four titans as well as a group of hippies (dude!) who lend their peace and love sensibilities to Godzilla and Anguirus. Some people believed initially that this film actually featured Jerry Garcia's debut as an actor but close scrutiny discloses a Japanese Jerry look-alike. I seem to recall the Jerry Garcia character eating lots of bananas in the movie. Many fans believed this to be a hidden message about the psychedelic potential of smoking banana peels, much as Donovan's hit "Mellow Yellow" was a few years prior.
Aside from all that, Gigan is absolutely the coolest kaiju to come down the pike with his pointed claws, pointed mandibles and, best of all, a rotating buzzsaw protruding from his belly. You can't find anything like that in Texas chainsaw Massacre! By the film's end, our monster heroes have sent our monster villains packing with an invitation never to set foot on our cool blue orb again. At least until the next Toho production is cranked out.
Directed by Jun Fukuda, a sorry successor to the venerable Ishiro Honda, I give this less-than-classic kaiju-fest a sample pack of roach motels.
Monday, February 06, 2006
THE CAVE (2005)
I like Cole Hauser. He's definitely B-list but he's all right. Maybe it's because the first time I was aware of him was in Pitch Black, a better-than-most-but-still-can't-touch-Alien Alien wannabe. He's got an icy stare and wide eyed expression that on any other actor would be their I'm-doing-this-for-comic-effect look. On him, it looks menacing and cold.
He was good in Pitch Black although the picture belonged to Vin Diesel and the Aussie actress whose name escapes me at the moment. He was good in the same way in Paparazzi, an otherwise forgettable and regretable exercise from the school of revenge genre. In The Cave he's good too. In fact, he's the only good actor in it.
The movie begs the question, how much do casting directors get paid? Is it a shitty job? Do they just pick randomly from the Book of Studs or Beach Bunnies We Can Pass Off As Scientists? Aarg. I'm really tired of good looking people. I mean in general they're ubiquitous and they exist only to make me feel less good about myself.
And a shlocky summer horror romp like this absolutely doesn't benefit from good looking actors. THEY'RE IN A CAVE, PEOPLE! NO LIGHTS! CAN'T SEE HOW BEAUTIFUL ANYONE IS ANYWAY!
Let us pause for a moment and remember the perfectly selected cast for the original Alien movie. Probably the last time dead on casting for a horror flick ever occurred. It could be argued that Tom Skerrit is the stud of the movie but his character absolutely betrays that possibility. Here's a guy who for all the world only wants one thing: to do what the company has sanctioned him to do and then go home. He hardly burst with heroic charisma.
Next, Sigourney Weaver is a beautiful actress but far too intelligent and edgy to just come off as eye candy. Veronica Cartwright was nervous and frightened, smoking constantly and following orders with an air of resignation. Harry Dean Stanton and Yaphet Kotto were more or less the C3PO and R2-D2 of the film, providing brief comic relief as the beleaguered mechanics who don't even rate a "full share" on this voyage. Ian Holm is a standout as the cold and threatening Ash and the great John Hurt lends his fatigued expression to Kane, the Alien's first victim.
The characters looked and spoke like tired, underpaid and fed up employees too powerless to argue against company directives and proceedures. The crew was as real as what you would expect to see at your local garage or in the boiler room of a skyscraper.
Nowadays, studs. Studs and chicks. Studs and chicks get lost in a cave. Studs and chicks get lost in wax house. Studs and chicks get eaten alive. Whatever. What made Alien work were the characters: plain, simple, no frills, regular folk.
The Cave, despite the good looks of its cast, does display some beautiful camera work. Some of the spelunking scenes are truly claustrophobic. Animatronic monsters are OK but at this point, you've seen it all before. The final frame twist is silly and detectable from a mile away.
Directed by Bruce Hunt, 2nd line director for the vile Matrix Reloaded and Revolution fiascos, I give The Cave 2 out 5 flashlights and a spare rebreather. You're gonna need it.
He was good in Pitch Black although the picture belonged to Vin Diesel and the Aussie actress whose name escapes me at the moment. He was good in the same way in Paparazzi, an otherwise forgettable and regretable exercise from the school of revenge genre. In The Cave he's good too. In fact, he's the only good actor in it.
The movie begs the question, how much do casting directors get paid? Is it a shitty job? Do they just pick randomly from the Book of Studs or Beach Bunnies We Can Pass Off As Scientists? Aarg. I'm really tired of good looking people. I mean in general they're ubiquitous and they exist only to make me feel less good about myself.
And a shlocky summer horror romp like this absolutely doesn't benefit from good looking actors. THEY'RE IN A CAVE, PEOPLE! NO LIGHTS! CAN'T SEE HOW BEAUTIFUL ANYONE IS ANYWAY!
Let us pause for a moment and remember the perfectly selected cast for the original Alien movie. Probably the last time dead on casting for a horror flick ever occurred. It could be argued that Tom Skerrit is the stud of the movie but his character absolutely betrays that possibility. Here's a guy who for all the world only wants one thing: to do what the company has sanctioned him to do and then go home. He hardly burst with heroic charisma.
Next, Sigourney Weaver is a beautiful actress but far too intelligent and edgy to just come off as eye candy. Veronica Cartwright was nervous and frightened, smoking constantly and following orders with an air of resignation. Harry Dean Stanton and Yaphet Kotto were more or less the C3PO and R2-D2 of the film, providing brief comic relief as the beleaguered mechanics who don't even rate a "full share" on this voyage. Ian Holm is a standout as the cold and threatening Ash and the great John Hurt lends his fatigued expression to Kane, the Alien's first victim.
The characters looked and spoke like tired, underpaid and fed up employees too powerless to argue against company directives and proceedures. The crew was as real as what you would expect to see at your local garage or in the boiler room of a skyscraper.
Nowadays, studs. Studs and chicks. Studs and chicks get lost in a cave. Studs and chicks get lost in wax house. Studs and chicks get eaten alive. Whatever. What made Alien work were the characters: plain, simple, no frills, regular folk.
The Cave, despite the good looks of its cast, does display some beautiful camera work. Some of the spelunking scenes are truly claustrophobic. Animatronic monsters are OK but at this point, you've seen it all before. The final frame twist is silly and detectable from a mile away.
Directed by Bruce Hunt, 2nd line director for the vile Matrix Reloaded and Revolution fiascos, I give The Cave 2 out 5 flashlights and a spare rebreather. You're gonna need it.
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